


Safe

by SunhatLlama



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Brothers, Hurt/Comfort, Red Guards Are Jerks, Short One Shot, brothers to the rescue, d'Artagnan (Trois Mousquetaires) Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunhatLlama/pseuds/SunhatLlama
Summary: After a late-night visit with Constance, D'Artagnan finds himself alone in the dark streets of Paris. Will someone come to his aid? Or will he die before he makes it home to the garrison?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short assignment for my creative writing class and I thought that I would post it here for fun! I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also, my other fanfics are still in progress. School is reeeeal difficult for me right now (but I do have a really big fanfic I am working on for this fandom! I am very excited about it) :D

D'Artagnan stepped into the dark, empty streets, walking along the travel-weary road. He was returning home to the garrison after a secret late-night visit with Constance since her husband didn't want them to see each other. Normally, the streets were bustling with people at that time of night, but for some reason, d'Artagnan found himself alone. The wind began to blow harder, rustling the hanging clotheslines above him and shaking the shutters, causing a quiver of unease to ripple across his skin. He increased his pace, stepping faster through the partly-shadowed lanes.

A flurry of footsteps alerted d'Artagnan to a group of people's presence, and he spun around to greet the arriving men, the familiar hats glinting in the moonlight. He sighed; they were Red Guards, and there were four of them.

_A fight then_.

"Fine night, isn't it?" he asked, hoping his smile would disarm the usually hostile guard.

They seemed to completely disregard his question and instead, their leader leaned close to d'Artagnan's face, breathing heavily. The moist air grazed his skin and he had to hold his breath to keep from scrunching his nose distastefully.

"What are you doing out, _Musketeer_?" the man snarled, leering over his crimson, pompous outfit. "A little lost, pup?" His fellow guards laughed, their bellowing voices grating like saws against his ears. "I think we need to teach you a lesson."

D'Artagnan, gripped his sword, thumbing the leather-wrapped hilt. He kept his cool, taking a deep breath before releasing it gently. "And what have I done to warrant such a lesson?" he asked, jaw clenched.

They seemed to think about his question before answering. "You're on our territory."

D'Artagnan knew that was a lie. Both the Musketeers and the Red Guards share the city, each protecting it—though with varying success on the Guard's part. Even if they _did_ have territories, the Musketeer garrison was just around the corner. "I believe I am on _Musketeer_ territory, actually," he said, gesturing to the street right next to them.

Before he could turn back, the men brandished their weapons and rushed him. D'Artagnan barely grabbed his rapier from its sheath before the first sword came swinging at his face. He blocked the steel with a clang and stepped back with a flurry of practiced footwork and ended up in the shadowed part of the street.

"Oho, the pup knows some moves," the leader sneered, lunging forward again.

They traded blow after blow, d'Artagnan holding his own against the men, but he was quickly tiring. He slid his sword into a man's side before ripping it out in a flash. This was no longer about preventing a fight, it was about _survival._ Fear twisted his gut into knots and his muscles tensed at the thought of dying there in the empty streets. _This wasn't how he wanted it to end._ He immediately thought of his brothers, wishing they were by his side, and of Constance, the love of his life. Would they mourn his inevitable death? Seek justice against the Guards, his murderers?

A fist slammed against his temple and white agony pierced his eyes. He fell to the ground, dazed. The world spun around him and he lost control of his limbs. _No, he needed to get up._ He could _not_ die like that. He could not leave his brothers.

He tried to get up, pushing against the blurry ground and heaving his legs underneath him. He smelled blood, its tangy scent wafting up his nose. They were laughing at him, taunting him, but he couldn't make out the words. One of the guards was probably _dead_ and they acted like they had no care in the world. Anger flared in his mind and he growled, scrambling to his feet.

The men laughed even harder. "Look! He's trying to fight back," one of the guards said. "Let's teach him why he shouldn't mess with the _Cardinal's_ men."

D'Artagnan's chest heaved with each breath and it took all his strength just to stay standing. He saw the blurred fist coming but was too slow to dodge it, and he fell back down to the ground in a heap, trying to stay awake. Hand grabbed his arms and roughly pulled him to his feet and against the wall, pinning his limbs to prevent escape. His head pulsed with each beat of his heart, slamming pain against his battered skull. The tight grip on his body was beginning to cut off circulation and his skin began to tingle. His eyes slid closed halfway and he let the fight seep out of his body, the adrenaline finally running out.

"—usketeers!"

"—un!"

All of a sudden the hands fled and all of d'Artagnan's weight fell to the ground. He groaned, the pain welling up across his entire body; each movement striking his nerves with agony.

"—agnan!" a voice drifted through his mind. A soft ringing blasted in his ear, making it hard to hear.

"—he alive?"

D'Artagnan thought he recognized the voices.

Hands grabbed his arms and legs and they lifted him off the ground again. His stomach flipped at the movement and he let out a groan. He suddenly found himself warm, and surprisingly stable. But he wasn't on the ground anymore?

He felt all his thoughts leave his head the second a familiar scent overwhelmed him.

_Athos._

He let himself fall into unconsciousness knowing his brothers were there and that he was safe.


End file.
